Jarreau injects Hope with vibrant soul

Sunday

Mar 30, 2014 at 12:01 AM

Al Jarreau said he could "stay all night." He almost did. Well, not quite.

Tony Sauro

Al Jarreau said he could "stay all night." He almost did. Well, not quite.

Jarreau, casual, relaxed, informal, affable, smiling a lot and utterly infused with music, seemed to be conjuring up his formative hang-loose, 1970s club gigs in Sausalito - he reflected on them very fondly - as he gracefully paced himself through the 13th Brubeck Festival's headline concert Friday at Stockton's half-full Bob Hope Theatre.

Nevertheless, the 13-time Grammy Award-winning vocalist - he preferred "more R&B" than jazz as an adjective - vamped, scatted, joked, mused, occasionally slick-footed and generally grooved his way through a 13-"song" (depending on how that's defined), 100-minute show. He's like a one-voice Phish. A jam-man. Any direction's good.

A flexible, compatible, five-piece band backed up Jarreau's percussive, improvisational inventions - providing him with occasions when he could rest on a stool, admiring them. He's 74.

Jarreau, who's been doing this sort of thing for six decades, performed in the unfettered artistic spirit - anything goes - of pianist-composer Dave Brubeck (1920-2012), namesake of University of the Pacific's Brubeck Institute.

The concert and festival were dedicated to Iola Brubeck, an organizational, motivational and inspirational source of support during her 71-year marriage to Dave, an American jazz master and cultural ambassador. She died March 12 at age 90.

Obviously, the years have added rough - occasionally fragile - contours to the smooth-jazz vocal stylings of Jarreau's peak years. The grit and grind provided a slightly more-organic essence.

Still, Jarreau reached for the falsetto-ish highs and dug into the droning depths, seeming to experiment with every phrase. Uttering whatever the moment might infer.

That reached an apex when he and the band jammed through a lengthy - careening, colliding, chaotic - fusion of what seemed to be Brubeck's "Take Five" and "Blue Rondo a la Turk." Jarreau joyfully deployed his voice as a percussive instrument.

He preceded that by orating an auctioneer's-speed version of the lyrics Iola conceived for "Take Five," saxophone player Paul Desmond's familiar melody, a global standard since 1959.

Jarreau - like that influential legend with his 88 keys - is a guy who turns words and phrases into un-parseable sentences and paragraphs of invention, emotion and simmering soul.

He uttered an uncountable variety of percussive vocal effects - "boy-oh-boy-oh-boy," he marveled at one point - and mutterings, even engaging the enthusiastic and diverse audience in a call-and-response bop-a-long.

Never one to be constrained by convention, Jarreau expressed his delight in all genres of music, factoring funk, jazz, soul, flamenco guitar, Latin (Sergio Mendez's "Mas Que Nada"), pop balladry and smooth-jazz bits into the set.

There even was an encore rendition of "doo-wop," with four of the band members sharing slightly off-kilter harmonies with Jarreau, supported by rhythmic clapping from folks in the audience.

A generous performer - interacting with the audience as if it were sitting at tables sipping drinks just a few feet away at Gatsby's in Sausalito, circa 1968 - Jarreau's show included spotlight exposure for the guys in the band.

Which helped Jarreau, thin and frail after overcoming some health problems, pace himself. He moved carefully and precisely in his black suit - sleeves rolled up and ready - white shirt and trademark black beret.

Chris Walker, who plays electric bass left-handed, sang one of his own smooth-jazz ballads and formed a duet with Jarreau on another. John Calderon contributed extended acoustic flamenco guitar solos.

Band leader Joe Turano - from Jarreau's original hometown of Milwaukee, Wis. - sizzled on some sax solos and Larry Williams switched from piano and electronic keyboard on the same tunes (Brubeck-ian signatures included) and added flute flourishes. No drum solos from Mark Simmons, though.

Jarreau did work in a pensive "We're in This Love Together" (1981). The band and Jarreau let it all go, though, on "Scoot Your Bootie," a rambling, hey-try-this, rhythmic marathon he said originated on a Post-It note.

A seasoned showman, Jarreau took time to playfully suggest his new album - "Al Jarreau & the Metropole Orkest Live" - and "all my other projects" - as a Christmas gift: "Hey, I can download myself."

Jarreau, a Tarzana resident who's an honorary board member of the Brubeck Institute, seemed to be communing with the "Dave Institute" when he mused, "You were way over there and I was way over here."

An enthused audience member straightened that out: "We love you, Al," she implored. "I love you more," was his instinctive and showman-ly response.

On the band roster, Jarreau is listed as "the artist." Appropriate. He's an impressionistic, expressionistic musical word painter.

Contact Tony Sauro at (209) 546-8267 or tsauro@recordnet.com. Follow him on Twitter @tsaurorecord.

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